Bradland

cracked open my eyes
light gets in
the milky bed and dream drain off
i stretch
coffee's in the other room

adjusted my settings
good old days
jilted and tilted friends
a step-mom with a battle axe
poured a cup

she wants a white doctor
"those Indians think they're better than us"
"us?"
i will jump in the ocean today
waves or not
no cream or sugar, black

almost 80 and it's not even 9AM
dew streaks in the shadows
shadows streak from the sun
even for Florida
quite warm
january thunderstorms

our dog
her name is Lady
she needs a doctor
Cassin had a bad night
kept hearing noises
it was lady's stomach -

Loud accross the room, like space noises of baby torture I tried to let her out the door. She's always ready. She just looked at me like she was afraid to move. Like something would give.

I finished a bowl of Smart Start. Amber and the kids are at the gym. Some much needed Bradtime. Rev by Ultra Vivid Scene is playing in the kitchen now. An open space and sound carries with a pseudo-vaulted ceiling. This is a decent album. Wallpaper music. One of those that you forget is playing for songs at a time, then something will sonically come over and tap you on the shoulder, "remember me?"

This morning lady is alive, but sitting in the corner facing the wall like she fell asleep waiting to read fine print coming through the paint from the drywall. My first fiance had a canary that died overnight, the first night I stayed over. Now I'm on my second cup of coffee. A silvermine. A coalmine. Life is only what you do with the elements around you and recognising those elements in the first place. Trapped till let out at death or enlightenment, light at both ends. But light before you if you can feel it.

A guy stopped me on the streets of Gainesville years ago. I was walking with my walkman.

You know where I cn getta check cashed 'round here?

There's a convenient store around the corner, right at that light.

I'm not gonna get nothin' from those sand niggers, he said.

I flipped. Aggravated maybe that this cat thought I was someone he could speak with in this way, or that he interrupted my peace and a good song, or my privacy with such crap or just the general ignorance and it's ready numbers.

Sand Niggers? I said, Jesus was a sand nigger. Buddha was a sand nigger. Ghandi and Muhammad were sand nigger! Find it yourself dumbass.

This felt good for a few seconds, but I failed didn't I? Peace is easy in Bradland. But reality is it's own creature. You can adjust the settings, the conditions, but you step out that door and that's where it all begins. Be the Buddha for yourself - sure no problem. It's how we handle ourselves around others that counts. Action - Actions. Now I have to keep from killing my step-mom. I still have Christmas gifts in the back of my car. Middle January. I just can't bring myself to go by her house and visit her and my fading father. I have a long way to go.

b